


you, living

by mikronicos



Series: i'll love you forever (even if you're dead) [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Family, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikronicos/pseuds/mikronicos
Summary: virgil haunts roman's house.





	you, living

**Author's Note:**

> This au gives me life

You’ve got to listen to me. I’m a ghost. Yeah, full out. Killed myself and everything. I ~~live~~ exist in my old house. I spend most of my time singing to myself and reworking the novel I was writing before I died. (Spoiler alert: it’s pretty angsty.)

I’m sitting in the empty attic that was my room when a car drives up to the house. It’s a beat-up minivan that looks like it saw better days ten years ago; the dull gold paint is chipping. I can smell the rust from here. A van with bright words is pulled behind it. 

The backseat door creaks open, and by creak, I mean a grinding, metallic sound that sends rust chips flying. A little latina girl hops out of the car, her dark hair in braids. She looks about five years old. Innocent. Happy. I dislike her instantly. Too cheery. The next kid comes out, looking around nine years old. He’s a cute little kid, with a chipped tooth and cracked glasses that have been taped up so many times they look like a Staples threw up on them. He’s holding a thick book, and his close-cropped hair is mussed. Doesn’t look too annoying, thankfully. The next looks fourteen, in a gray hoodie with black earbuds and a phone case that looks like it was bought in Hot Topic. She looks like she just woke up. Her hair is in a high, dark ponytail. I’ll like this one, I think. Then, the next one comes out and I narrow my eyes. He’s sixteen-seventeen-ish, with a red and white letterman jacket. It has a gold crown embroidered on the breast. His hair is wavy and a warm reddish-brown. He wears skinny jeans and is shouting in a different language at the car. Sounds like a nuisance. Please don’t make him room with me.

They make him room with me. 

During the next few months, I learn some things about the family. They’re the Esperanzas, They’re immigrants from Spain, their Abuela is coming soon, and they all despise celery. Every. Single. One of them. It's freaky. The annoying one in my attic is Roman, the bookish kid is Alex, the emo is Xander, (and xyr pronouns are xie and xyr, I note.) and the little girl is Emmy. Roman is bisexual and transgender, judging by the binder and the flags he displays proudly over a beat-up mahogany desk. Roman loves Disney (and he took my Tim Burton posters!), and Xander despises it. Alex prefers not to get involved in their debates, and Emmy is on Roman’s side. I whisper arguments into Xander’s mind when xie's losing. Xie wins often. I grow to admire the parents of the house, Alejandro and Elena, and when Maria, their abuela, shows up, I love her too. She’s so loving, and can whip the kids into shape like nobody’s business. She winks at me when no-one else looks, and I make a point to help her cook and clean when everyone’s away. I learn that she sees ghosts often. I pick up on some Spanish with her. She likes teaching me. She insists that I call her Abuela.

My friends Deceit (he refuses to tell us his real name. Sometimes, we think he’s forgotten it. He died a long time ago.) and Remy hang out with us sometimes. Remy always seems to have a Starbucks cup in their hand and fresh drama from the family they live with, the Stokes. Until the Esperanzas came, those two were sometimes the only reason I didn’t fade away.

The only good thing about sharing a room with that obnoxious Disney prince is that I get to haunt him. “Misplacing” things, knocking over items, turning out the lights suspiciously… That sort of stuff. Ugh! He’s just so insufferable, taking over my space and blasting showtunes at all hours of the day and night.

But, sometimes, when I see that side of Roman… The one that’s soft and kind, the one I see whenever he’s patching up his friends Patton and Logan after the three of them being beat up, the one I see when he’s helping Abuela with cooking or drawing with Emmy… The one when he comforts Xander, and the one where he reads books about space with Alex… the one that makes me feel for him... I almost want to be friends with him, to offer a small, secret comfort where no one can. I ignore my feelings, though, intent on punishing Roman for taking my space. I hurt him day after day. It puts a smile on my face, not that anyone except Abuela and Emmy see it, anyway.

My routine is disrupted one day when Roman comes home with bruises. They’re covered up expertly with makeup, but I’ve done that too many times to not be able to see through him. He talks with his parents and siblings easily, but their language is slightly stilted. I follow him up the stairs. Abuela gives me a look that says, _keep an eye on him_. I nod and turn away, gliding up stained, carpeted stairs.

As soon as he closes the door to his room, he throws off his jacket and sobs, collapsing against the wall with a noise that I can barely muffle to the rest of the family. Roman holds his head in his hands, clawing at his scalp and choking out half-formed pleas. I hover near him, wondering whether this is a good idea, and materialize. _It’s been so long_ , I muse, cold hands circling his wrists and pulling them gently but firmly down. Roman looks up at the contact, and opens his mouth to scream at the deathly pale face in front of him. One of Virgil’s hands clamps over Roman’s mouth. “Don’t scream. I’m here to help.” He hisses. Roman nods slowly and Virgil releases his hold. “Now, breathe with me. In for four…” He inhales exaggeratedly, motioning for Roman to follow his lead. “Hold for seven… and out for eight. Good. Now, let’s do it again. In for four…” Virgil guides him through the breathing exercise until the shaking boy’s breathing evens out and his sobs subside.

Roman gives a watery smile. “Wh-who are you?”

Panicking, Virgil says, “Uhh… call me Anxiety. Ask your abuela-” He couldn’t hold his form anymore. He dissipated into the air, wrapping his chilly essence around Roman. When Roman asks his Abuela about him, all he gets is, “Oh, V-" he materializes, giving a warning look tinged with fondness. "Anxiety? He’s a sweet little thing.” Then, a pale hand materializes and flicks her dark cheek. 

This routine of hurt and comfort became a well-rehearsed pattern for the two, and Roman and Virgil eventually became friends. Virgil helped him study, and Roman helped keep him updated with the real world. They gave nicknames to each other, and with every time Virgil became physical, he found it easier to stay longer. Eventually, he could stay physical all the time, though he sometimes vaporised, because the physical form made Virgil need human sustenance. Only Abuela, Roman and Emmy knew about Virgil, and he’d prefer to keep it that way. His anxiety seemed to have carried over into the afterlife.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> What'd ya think, my mates?


End file.
